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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273375">stress relief</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochacreams/pseuds/mochacreams'>mochacreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Metal Gear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Porn, Character Study, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Oops, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Otaliquid, PUNISHED SNOTACON, Pre-Canon, Relationship Study, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Frustration, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Lust, friends is a strong word but u know what i mean, it's like........dark snotacon, pre-MGS1, sorry for all the technical nerdy talk btw i just copy pasted off wikipedia, this is a lil toxic but i wanted to explore it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:21:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochacreams/pseuds/mochacreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out being held hostage on Shadow Moses can have a pretty drastic effect on your sex drive.</p><hr/><p>or, Otacon’s pent up and Liquid is available</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Liquid Snake/Otacon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. tension</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oops</p><p>this is bad don’t look. i had a thought about this and i couldnt do anything else until i wrote it. anywayssss this wasnt supposed to be too angsty but it just kinda happened :( i wanted to explore this type of "relationship of convenience" kind of thing. more one night stand i suppose.</p><p>it almost feels criminal for me to write this before otasune smut but. what can you do. i hope it's at least interesting to read.</p><p>split up into two parts because i cant quite decide on some of the specifics for chapter 2 lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>During the initial days of FOXHOUND taking over, there'd been a chaos that eventually settled into a cold dust.</p><p>The facility in Alaska is expansive and imposing, all a mix of concrete and steel; it certainly looks and feels like a prison (well, it hadn't really felt like that until it was all quiet and with armed guards patrolling). The base may be big, but the irony is that the island itself is just a small, insignificant blip on the radar.</p><p>FOXHOUND had come and suddenly there was no going home, his coworkers had been evacuated and the hallways had never seemed more...vacant. </p><p>But Otacon is used to being alone. There were many days before where he'd been so busy programming that he'd eaten lunch at his desk instead of with the others, and plenty more days where he'd forgone lunch altogether in favor of work. Now, hardly leaving his lab except for when Sniper Wolf lets him feed her dogs is barely any different from the way things had been previously. There's always guards at his door—they even escort him to and from the bathroom—so it's not like there's much choice in the matter.</p><p>He's alone except for when the <i>Boss</i> will pay him a visit. (What's his name, anyway? The old man with the revolver had only ever called him <i>Boss</i>, and Wolf almost never bothers to mention him most of the time.)</p><p>They have meetings, sometimes, in his lab. Those are the only times anyone ever comes in. At first, the other members had come too—assaulting him with too many questions and with so many guns flying around that it might as well have been a full-on interrogation. But it’s not like he’s a threat, and they need REX finished.</p><p>He's been left in the dark about most of what the terrorists plan to do—there's no reason for them to divulge that kind of information to a hostage. But he is compliant anyway. If he doesn't think about it too much, it's easy to forget.</p>
<hr/><p>The sliding door makes its soft, metallic <i>swish</i> behind where Otacon's sitting, but he hardly even looks up from the monitor.</p><p>Having another person step into this normally empty room means he'd felt a light breeze announcing the presence, making some of the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Combat boots clack against the cold metal floor, and finally Otacon tilts his head a little toward the door's general direction, pushing up his glasses.</p><p>The interloper clears his throat; the sound is booming (even though Otacon is fully aware that he's there, he still jumps at the suddenness). </p><p>"We're going to go over REX's schematics." Not a question—a command. It comes from a low voice that has a hint of a British accent. Smooth, with a lilt in the middle. </p><p>"R-Right. Just a moment." A moment for what? What's he doing scrambling for torn-out, messy notes and dry-erase markers when everything's on the computer terminal anyway? Being alone with someone as <s>handsome</s> <i>intimidating</i> as him makes him have a mini-crisis every time.</p><p>"Be as detailed as possible," the Boss chides from behind him, in his near vicinity, footsteps slow as he reaches for the back of a swivel chair and drags it over. "No skipping over anything; I want the full report."</p><p>He's quick to respond with a muffled "Of course", but mentally Otacon's a little annoyed, because he'd been planning to abridge the parts littered with tech lingo and technical details that he probably can't understand anyway. Would he even notice if anything was omitted? </p><p>The last two meetings were different from this; the first time was little more than a fleeting introductory conversation (more like Boss had questioned his identity with an accusatory finger, and Otacon had confirmed it). The second was about the basics of REX, its location, and it had ended with the Boss saying he should get comfortable, because he'd have to stay here working until preparations were complete. Both sort of rushed and more of an afterthought than a formal discussion.</p><p>There's a whiteboard to the rightmost wall, next to the main computers and plastered next to where his Gundam poster is tacked on. When he turns around, black marker and messy notebook laden in his arms, Boss is sitting with his legs spread wide, feet flat on the floor and his left arm angled on the table in the corner. The table right in front of the whiteboard.</p><p>It takes everything in Otacon to pass by without staring at the way his silver dogtags are squeezed between his cleavage, or the way his blue eyes are trained on his every movement.</p><p>"So, REX—" </p><p>"—Yes, that's what I said, <i>Dr. Emmerich</i>." There's a certain venom in the way he says his name that makes Otacon cringe (a toxicity in it that he hasn't felt in a long time). "This isn’t a leisure trip; why else would I willingly come down to this shoddy basement..." Boss doesn't phrase it like a question; it's more rhetorical if anything. A statement of fact.</p><p>Otacon thinks that if it's so shoddy, why's he gotta be holed up in it?</p><p>"My bad, Boss, sir. Sorry." It comes out hushed in a breath, while he's flipping through some pages. At least he's facing the whiteboard now, but he can still hear the way the Boss crosses his arms over his chest. "So, ah, let’s see…”</p><p>His hand is poised with the marker in hand, beginning to copy down a few equations onto the board. Then a few notes bulleted next to them—barely legible. </p><p>“What the <i>hell</i> does that say?”</p><p>It makes Otacon jump, twirling around in the same motion and shooting him an apologetic look. Boss is squinting and leaning forward in his attempt to decipher the chicken-scratch on the board. </p><p>“Oh— I was just about to read it aloud, anyway.” He’s folding the corner of the notebook page, folding and unfolding, back and forth. “I don’t have the best handwriting, ahaha… Stereotypical for a doctor, huh? Haha…”</p><p>Boss doesn’t look amused. </p><p>Otacons’s rambling, but he talks fast. The last word leaves his lips and then he clears his throat. “REX’s armor is composite. More specifically, metal matrix composite. The MMC we’re using is similar to the formula used in heavily-armored tanks. It’s mainly steel reinforced with boron nitride, and although it’s a bulkier choice it’s a good reinforcement for steel because it’s very...stiff. And it doesn’t dissolve in molten steel.”</p><p>As he looks up to point at the formula written down, he can see that the Boss...is watching intently? Listening without interrupting. The look in his eyes is so...intelligent. Not like the other soldiers here. Even Wolf, for all the sharp cleverness visible in her features, could never look as cunningly smart as the Boss does right now. </p><p>He knows more than just guns. He's strategic, analytic.</p><p>He just stares, waiting for Otacon to go on, yet digesting the information without delay. Like everything is crystal clear to him, without even the need for questioning. </p><p>When Otacon points at the equation scribbled in black marker, a shiver goes up his spine. “A-Anyway, these numbers here just represent the exact ratio of steel to boron nitride in REX’s frame. Also, the formula to calculate the density of the armor, since it varies from piece to piece.”</p><p>“Mm. Because it can’t be too weightly near the joints, otherwise it’ll get stiff or collapse.”</p><p>Oh, so he really understands? “Y-Yes, that’s exactly why the knee joints are made with much thinner armor at the back, and two shifting plates at the front.” He feels his face getting hot.</p><p>“Moving on,” Otacon grabs the marker and begins writing again, “REX is exactly 13 meters tall, 15 meters long, and 11.5 meters wide. The cockpit in the head is big enough for an adult male, weight capacity 300 pounds.”</p><p>“Anything more and it’ll dip too much at the front.”</p><p>“Mmm. There'd be an imbalance.” He’s jotting down one last thought on the whiteboard as he huns this, his hand suddenly shaky. Then he turns around, fidgeting with his fingers. “You know, Boss, if you have any specific questions—”</p><p>“—Oh, I couldn’t possibly steal the show from you, Doctor.” Boss says it snarkily, while tapping his fingers against the tabletop. “Your work is respectable. But if you’ll entertain me: What about the main armaments? Can you tell me about those?”</p><p>Of course he’d be more interested in the weapons. “Well that was...mainly handled by a separate department. I only know the basics, really. But you should have documents with more details.”</p><p>“Yes, maybe so, but I’m <i>here</i> now, so for the sake of efficiency, just tell me everything you know.” He’s strangely insistent and eerie about it. </p><p>Otacon fixes his glasses with one hand while flipping to the back of the notebook. “Well, to start with the basics… It’s got AGM-114P anti-tank missiles equipped, which is really the standard for any piece of machinery nowadays. The two XGAU-8R rotary cannons also aren’t anything too out of the ordinary for military tech. They're 30mm and all that.</p><p>“What makes REX special is its missile defense capabilities, though. The free-electron laser is certainly powerful, but the railgun is the real centerpiece. The joint venture we did was a real success, or so I hear. It’s designed to intercept missiles using electromagnetically propelled bullets. Ideal for a bipedal TMD.”</p><p>It’s quiet for a moment, in which all Otacon does is glance at the Boss after shutting his notebook. </p><p>The Boss, who’s smirking a little. “Perfect.”</p><p>...That’s all he has to say? What does that even mean? Otacon’s half-expecting some more conversation to it, but the Boss leaves it at that. He’s already getting out of his seat, presumably headed toward the door. </p><p>“Well, that’s all I’ll be needing today, Doctor. You’ve been a good little engineer for me, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Those combat boots clack again in that same pattern as earlier, across the dulled linoleum floor. </p><p>Otacon shifts his weight from foot to foot. He's sort of dumbstruck, but suddenly he's clenching the notebook tight. "W-Wait a minute!" Words are spilling out and he can't stop himself from continuing. "...I wanna know <i>who</i> exactly I'm working for!"</p><p>He doesn't really expect a response.</p><p>But the Boss stops, his mouth opening slightly to most likely make a snide remark—</p><p>And before he can, Otacon runs his mouth again, this time quieter, "Everyone else has codenames, so I just figured that..."</p><p>He should've just asked Wolf for his name, he certainly shouldn’t have—</p><p>It takes a moment, where the Boss is standing in the doorway, looking at him from a side-profile, before he responds. "...Liquid."</p><p>He steps out. The metal door slides closed just behind the tails of his beige trenchcoat.</p><p><i>Oh.</i> Must've been feeling generous today.</p>
<hr/><p>Otacon has a name to attach to the face, now. And the body, too.</p><p>So what if he'd hacked into the security camera system earlier today, watching the Bo— watching <i>Liquid</i> and his firm ass and exposed washboard abs through the feed? It wasn't weird.</p><p>He deserves some leniency, anyway—he's been working hard.</p><p>There isn't much left to do on REX. Some specific things need to be programmed in, and he has to refine certain parts of the code, but it's near finished. Three quarters done, if he had to wager. The guards have been a little more lax recently now that preparations have been running smoothly for a while. He isn't dumb enough to try and defy FOXHOUND or plan an escape.</p><p>Even though security doesn't linger in his lab much—while they're not breathing down his neck anymore—it's gotten tighter outside in the corridors. There's a gas-filled hallway with electric floors and everything now (Otacon won't go past those parts unless he's visiting Wolf).</p><p>Some guards had come in to check on him just a few minutes ago, not bothering with his work but carefully scoping out the room for anything suspicious. They'd left while chattering about finally getting a break, even though lunch's rations weren't anything to be particularly excited about.</p><p>But it’s his lucky break; a rare lapse in the usually monotonous schedule. A miracle, really. To think they’d pick the perfect time to leave him be, when his dick’s already warm in his pants. </p><p>Liquid, whose handsome face and solid body have been lurking in the corners of Otacon’s brain for a while now, had come to the forefront of his thoughts as soon as those genome soldiers had left. It must be infatuation. Purely a physical, sexual attraction, because it can’t be love when the Boss is so indifferent, all business—right? </p><p>
  <s>It can’t be love when the Boss hardly acknowledges his existence.</s>
</p><p>It’s a troublesome situation, but he’d never be able to reveal his true feelings to his face. So it’ll remain at this stagnant point, where Otacon won’t pursue anything and he won’t land in any more trouble (probably for the best).</p><p>And if he pleasures himself to the thought of Liquid, so what? He’d never know. </p><p><i>There isn’t any harm in it</i>, is what he keeps repeating to himself like a tired mantra. </p><p>Boss is unreachable, on an impossibly high pillar compared to him. An unrealistic goal.</p><p>But even still, getting a <s>codename</s> name out of him makes it all the more personal. </p><p>
  <i>Liquid, Liquid, Liquid.</i>
</p><p>Boss is Liquid and he is Hal. </p><p>So it's Hal who begins to unbuckle his belt and lean back in his office chair, not Otacon, and certainly not Dr. Emmerich. </p><p>Just Hal. </p><p>He tugs his fly down, the crisp sound of the zipper making him sigh in anticipation. At the waist, his jeans unbutton, finally, making room for his growing boner. </p><p>There's a pause. He reaches out a hand to turn around the Asuka figure and Keroppi plushie that sit on the desk, because otherwise he'll feel gross and flustered if they're facing him—'<i>watching</i>'. In any situation, he’d prefer to be the voyeur, not the exhibitionist. </p><p>God, how long has it been since he's touched himself? Far too long, Hal decides.</p><p>Stress builds up easily when you’re working under duress at the secluded Shadow Moses, held hostage by terrorists until this giant, mobile TMD would be completed. And the thing is, you didn’t get much free <i>or</i> alone time sprinkled in between. </p><p>That's why, when he looks down again to his dick, there's already precum staining his gray briefs. The wet, sticky substance makes a blotch darken the center of his underwear. </p><p>"Damn…" he mumbles, halfway sounding like a moan. This pair is all dirty now, and of course he wouldn't have thought to bring spares. He hasn't changed since the takeover, and his hair is all messy. He's even got more stubble than he'd like from lack of shaving.</p><p>Those are problems for later. Hal slips his finger underneath, hooking the waistband of his briefs and sliding them down. He has to shimmy a little in his chair—the underwear sliding past his butt—but eventually he finds a comfortable position.</p><p>The door to his lab is locked; he had double and triple checked before he could finally be calm about it. Lunch break should be half an hour. That's enough time, he can just make it.</p><p>With his dick free, Hal begins to stroke the shaft, which is more than halfway up. Two fingers caress the base, prodding the back and forth at the fair skin and gliding over his balls. His hands are cold, and so a shiver goes up his spine (though, partially from arousal, too). </p><p>If only he'd brought his vibrator—that'd be the only thing that could make him feel even better—but obviously he hadn't had preparation before being held hostage.</p><p>His fingertips move slightly past the base, moving upward to the head. He starts by brushing the underside, feeling a sharp heat pound toward his dick. Once he coaxes it a litte, his cock stands up fully, making a redness rise to his cheeks in the same moment. Hal grips it, with his pinky touching the base and pointer finger locked halfway up the length.</p><p>By now, the precum's starting to leak downward, but still pooling at the tip. Some of it drips down into his palm, some onto the edge of the seat, some onto the floor.</p><p>His thumb runs over the sensitive flesh near the head, up and down. Everything starts getting fuzzy, and his eyes squeeze shut, savoring the feeling of being on-edge. An image of Liquid comes to fruition in his head, cloudy as it may be, making him tense up as his hand begins jerking up and down in a smooth staccato. It's almost as if it's moving on its own, already accustomed to Hal's rhythm. The motions are slow and soft at first—he's awfully sensitive, so this way it'll last longer.</p><p>The stimulation alone after so long and after being so high strung is still too much at first. He really doesn't want to have to come twice just to relieve himself, though. If he can drag it out just the perfect amount…</p><p>It’s a subconscious effort, really.</p><p>Hal tries not to think about it too deeply, and instead focuses on the timing of his breaths, on the way his fingers tap against his shaft in a music-like pattern. The way that he grasps onto his cock like his life depends on it. </p><p>When he applies more pressure—biting his lip in the process—the head curves up, twitching through every bluish vein. More blood rushes right to the tip, begging for a quick release. That won’t do, though; Hal shudders, while at the same time quickening his pace slightly (just enough where his heart races, but not enough to send him over the edge just yet).</p><p>For a good while, his other hand goes to stroke with nimble fingers—and if he pretends it’s Liquid’s strong hand, then so what? His stomach churns in that familiar way that means he’s too close. <i>Soon.</i> There’s salty sweat collecting at his bangs and at the back of his neck. He’s warmer than before as he rubs closer to the tip, circling the head’s pinkish flesh that sends shocks through his body. </p><p>Hal’s hand, trembling, gives his cock a few more frenzied pumps. His back arches. A breath lets out, hot and shaky, all the while images of Liquid's naked form invading his mind's eye, and he releases, squirting into a clump of tissues he'd hastily grabbed from the box on his desk with his free hand. That's the wonderful thing about imagination: Anything you conjure up can feel so <i>real</i>. </p><p>It feels real, but not real enough to keep him satisfied for much longer under these conditions.</p><p>It still isn’t…<i>enough</i>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SORRY FOR THIS ONE dont hate me &lt;3 other part soon maybe. who knows, i dont. love u all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. release</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'M BACK WITH THE FINAL PART. i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope it was worth the wait :')</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dr. Emmerich.”</p>
<p>With REX closer to completion than ever, Liquid’s visits are more frequent. Lately he’s seemed more on-edge (not that he ever showed it, but it was easy to tell from the way he was constantly <i>sensing</i>). Even the way he says Otacon’s name, now, feels strained and vaguely threatening.</p>
<p>It’s like everything is coming to a climax, a breaking point. </p>
<p>“We’re nearing the final stages of this project, so I’d like to discuss a few things. Mainly...I’d fancy to know about the VR mission results.”</p>
<p>“Oh, right. We ran a lot of tests on it before development, when it was in the prototype stage, but the recent ones were a lot better than I was expecting. Not 100% reliable, though, since it’s just virtual.”</p>
<p>“Which is exactly why we’ll be testing it soon.” Liquid says it quickly, already sauntering over to his usual spot near the corner and grabbing the chair. “The test data is still...vital to this operation, however. It’s important for me to know the numbers and statistics for each simulation.”</p>
<p>“I-I’ll pull up the report log.”</p>
<p>"Very good, Doctor."</p>
<p>Truthfully, Otacon is still as needy and pent-up as the other day.</p>
<p>As he'd suspected, the feelings had only returned tenfold after the fact. The feeling of relaxation had lasted maybe a day or two. Even without seeing Liquid, the thought of him—the <i>tension</i> that came with anticipating his next meeting—was enough to drive his hormones crazy. </p>
<p>And admittedly, Otacon’s been slower with the work on REX because of it. </p>
<p>True, he could probably relieve himself a few more times if only for the sake of finishing up this programming, but things have been crazier lately. It’s near crunch time and FOXHOUND seems keen on getting everything done soon. </p>
<p>The terminal in the corner houses all the VR test data. Soon enough, he’s hunched over the monitor, legs shaky as he types commands into the keyboard. The display is black with lines of words and numbers and options in green and orange. </p>
<p>Boss has dragged a swivel chair closer to where he is, leaning against its white leather back, legs spread wide and imposing as always—</p>
<p>Otacon’s fumbling with the keys, making typos and clicking the wrong buttons. <i>Backspace, backspace, space, backspace again</i>. </p>
<p>How embarrassing. </p>
<p>The way he's aggressively pressing buttons and arching his neck so far makes his glasses go off-kilter, almost falling off his face. He knows he can't possibly look as disheveled as he feels (hopefully). <i>All you have to do is print the logs.</i> But it's hard when his dick is threatening to pop up completely in his pants; there's already a little bump at his crotch, though it's easily hidden if he moves his baggy jeans a certain way.</p>
<p>He shakes his head to clear it, but it doesn't clear. On the screen, the cursor is bobbing back and forth between menus, because suddenly he's forgotten where the correct formatting and printing options are—</p>
<p>Behind him, Boss clears his throat, and then gives something like a disgruntled sigh. “This won’t do at all…" Otacon hears him stand up from his <s>throne</s> seat. “You need to relieve some tension, am I right?" A pause. Slight hesitation. Cue a meek nod from Otacon. “Then, I’ll assist you.”</p>
<p>“You mean…?” There’s no way he can possibly hide his bewilderment at such a shift; Otacon fidgets with his round glasses, pressing the frames to the bridge of his nose. He turns slightly, looking at Liquid who's standing with his hands in his pants pockets, and blinks. “...Huh?”</p>
<p>Liquid laughs to himself, not even attempting to conceal it. Otacon feels his cheeks growing hot, and he instantly glues his eyes to the tiled floor. “You’re smart, Doctor; you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”</p>
<p>The way he swallows is comically loud. “I...I think so?”</p>
<p>He’s so mousy, with the cuffs of his thick white hoodie covering parts of his slim hands and messy gray hair brushing against the sides of his face. </p>
<p>And the Boss is just so… He’s tall and handsome, with chiseled muscles like a Greek statue. Someone you’d only see in movies. </p>
<p>It almost feels criminal for someone like Otacon to accept his offer, no matter how badly he’d been wanting it. </p>
<p>“You know as well as I do that REX won’t be ready to launch as long as you’re in this…<i>state</i>.” Platinum blond waves are thrown back, and even from a side-view Otacon can see the way he looks him up and down, observing in that cold, familiar way. “It’s...inefficient.”</p>
<p>So he's noticed? Of course he's noticed. “Uh-huh.” The whole situation is—highly improbable, in realistic terms. Far beyond his wildest wishes.</p>
<p>"Just think of it as a little break. I'll indulge you."</p>
<p>"<i>Uh-huh.</i>" The opportunity to finally have something real? He's got his hand clasped in front of his crotch, attempting to hide his eagerness. "You'd be— You wouldn't mind it being with me?"</p>
<p>"I have to make sure my comrades are happy, Doctor. You can't continue your work like this or it'll be terribly sloppy."</p>
<p>"Right." Why is his breath already hitching? "Okay…<i>Liquid</i>." Testing the name on his lips feels far too odd. "I— It won't take long."</p>
<p>"Whatever you need." One hand is still in his pocket, but Liquid holds out the other, palm facing up.</p>
<p>Otacon—who'd been playing with the split-ends of his curls—grabs it, the contact sending a spark through his body that ends at his dick. He holds onto it maybe a little too tightly, teeth clenched. </p>
<p>Liquid's hand is rough and calloused, but just as big and warm as he'd imagined. His fingers aren't thin and wiry like Otacon's, but built and padded. </p>
<p>He lets go when Liquid has finally come closer, close enough that his presence makes the hair on Otacon's neck stand on-end. Liquid tugs at the sleeves of his jacket, pulling it off one arm at a time. The matte fabric glides off his broad shoulders with ease, and he drapes it over Otacon’s swivel chair. </p>
<p>With that gone, Liquid’s immaculate body is all the more visible, more specifically his abs and muscled arms. The left one has a long, black tattoo inked down it—something that looks like a caduceus but with a sword instead of a rod. It's all so strange.</p>
<p>But he doesn’t have much time to take that sought-after sight in, regrettably; Liquid takes Otacon’s chin in his hand, staring into his blue irises for a moment, and then jerks his head back toward the computer. </p>
<p>He’s rough. But that’s how Otacon likes it, in all honesty. On sight, Liquid’s rugged appearance and nasty attitude were enough for him to deduce that that would be the case. </p>
<p>The 'File' and 'Print' submenu tabs are still highlighted by the mouse when Otacon leans over the terminal, perched above the mousepad. He plants his hands on the desktop, holding himself up in a bracing position. There's still some space between his body and the edge of the table.</p>
<p>It’s in that space where Liquid slips his hand, one at first to toy with the buttons of Otacon’s jeans. To trace the belt at his waist. To flick the zipper while licking his lips. The hand moves up, then with the other one as well; they flick Otacon's shirt up and slide underneath.</p>
<p>Those strong hands he'd long fantasized about cup his trim waist on either side, palms rubbing the flesh there as they travel down to his hips. </p>
<p>The tent in Otacon’s pants is unbearably hard now, his dick straining against the tight denim. In his mind, it feels like the fabric is close to bursting. </p>
<p>His brain swims. </p>
<p>Liquid unbuttons Otacon's pants slowly, and takes even longer to actually zip down his fly. Then it's the thing, leather belt he unfastens, the heavy metal clasp falling limp and brushing his thigh. The pants fall to his knees, and Otacon lets out a palpable sigh of relief that just <i>sounds</i> aroused and sweaty.</p>
<p>With only his boxers holding his dick back, it's more comfortable. </p>
<p>Behind him, Liquid adjusts himself, taking some of the weight off Otacon and then grabbing one of his hands. </p>
<p>He speaks, commandingly almost: "Show me what you want." He slips his hand under Otacon's palm, making up for the imbalance by easing the awkward angle for now.</p>
<p>Otacon, sort of shaking, guides Liquid's hand over his erection—blushing bright from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. Even after Otacon takes his arm away and goes back to holding himself up, Liquid's hand stays, palming his dick. </p>
<p>His underwear is thin, so he feels every inch of movement more tangibly than otherwise. </p>
<p>Fingertips rub back and forth, up and down, slow and sensually. </p>
<p>And then they flit underneath the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. Otacon's skinny, so they fall down with ease once Liquid gets the band over his erection, scrunched up at the same point as his pants.</p>
<p>Otacon has a moment of relief again, his dick finally free. There's precum at the tip and blue veins showing like he's ready to burst already. It's turned a rosy red shade near the end.</p>
<p>"...Oh." There's a pause. "Good, good…" It only comes out like a mumble from Liquid when he finally sees his dick, but somehow it makes Otacon feel hotter. It's like praise, or at least as much as he could get from someone like the Boss.</p>
<p>Palms move up to the shaft, slippery as it is near the head, and stroke it, cupping it fully. It's one hand at first, slowly moving across the length. It makes Otacon's breath hitch. Then it's the other hand that joins, at first moving along the bottom of his shaft and then teasing his tip.</p>
<p>Then he brings his hands up and down in a simultaneous, synchronized motion. Rocking back and forth with the movement of his body as his crotch humps Otacon's butt. It's synced to a pace that alternates between fast and slow, so that Otacon can't release <i>just yet</i>, but he's close enough where he could if pushed over the edge.</p>
<p>Liquid doesn't push him over that edge—not yet.</p>
<p>Otacon stays braced—hardly any space between him and the table's edge—and savors the moment. Mostly. He's savoring it, but at the same time he wants more, more, more. The sensation of Liquid's skin touching him is the only thing he feels; everything else is dreamlike and locked out.</p>
<p>He wishes he could see Liquid, too, but just to have the privilege of feeling him is leagues better than just touching himself to his image. It's enough to satiate him, anyway. </p>
<p>After all, he's been looking for a long while, and this is the only opportunity he has for actual contact. It's so dreamy, the way Liquid pins his heavy form against Otacon's back, leaning his entirety against him.</p>
<p>"You said it won't take long for you?" says Liquid suddenly, interrupting the cacophony of moans and fabric crinkles and pulls his hands off of Otacon's shaft. Through his pleasure, Otacon nods weakly. "Well, you'll have to hold on a bit more."</p>
<p>"O-Okay, I guess…"</p>
<p>Liquid's hands move to grip his thighs, squeezing the outside and then shifting to caress the inner skin that's far softer and more sensitive. A cold burst sparks up Otacon's spine from the point of contact.</p>
<p>Then he rubs up against him, harder now than before. First his chest hits Otacon when he wraps his arms fully around his thighs, then his abs press against his lower back, and then...</p>
<p>The beginning of a boner pushes into Otacon’s butt, digging right between his cheeks and teasing his hole. Liquid's hard—his presence still big and warm—so he must be enjoying this, but it’s still just <i>teasing</i>. It seems that Liquid’s grinding with special attention to that area, just to get a reaction out of him. </p>
<p>And it works, after a short while. The pressing and friction is just too much, and a drawn-out moan like a low whisper drifts out from Otacon’s spread lips. It’s so sudden and from such little contact that he wants to clamp his mouth shut and bury his red face into his palms—and he would, <i>if</i> he didn't need them to not fall flat on his face against the tabletop.</p>
<p>Liquid clicks his tongue. “I’d say you’re getting a little too greedy, Doctor. You can’t have that.” As if to emphasize this, he gives one last thrust that makes Otacon’s stomach ram into the edge of the table, but then pulls back a little. </p>
<p>Even so, Otacon moans <i>again</i> at the contact. It’s just too good—every wet dream of his come to life. </p>
<p>And it’s almost…<i>instinctual</i> when Otacon buckles his hips back, eager and hungry to feel more of that cock—to feel more of Liquid. He’s needy and willing like an animal in heat (when had he reverted back to a horny teenager, anyways?). His bottom pushes back into the solid wall of muscle that’s Liquid, shimmying so his cheeks spread around the erection by just a fraction, accommodating it in between. </p>
<p>
  <i>So close.</i>
</p>
<p>Only a few layers of fabric are between Liquid and being inside of him. </p>
<p>He turns to begging again. <i>Pleading.</i>, really: “C-Can’t you just—”</p>
<p>“—I won’t.”</p>
<p>
  <i>So straightforward. So quick.</i>
</p>
<p>Even with that request denied, however, Otacon finds himself (somehow) hornier than before. Something he can't have is being continually waved right in front of him—or, rather, <i>behind</i> him—is too much, and it drives him crazy. Into a frenzy, almost. But in the best way possible, because it's just teasing, and it's not quite there, yet at the same time it's overwhelmingly present and fulfilling.</p>
<p>Liquid makes him yearn.</p>
<p>He shifts back to working on Otacon's cock, pretty slender but long and sort of heavy. Liquid lets out a hot breath that sizzles along Otacon's neck.</p>
<p>Again, his palm glides over the balls, then along the shaft—fingertips tapping it as he goes. Tapping like a row of piano keys, until he grasps it from the bottom again, calloused palms scratching against the soft skin and the bumps of veins. His other hand runs along the shaft with his sharp knuckles, but only for an instant. </p>
<p>Then he goes back to rubbing, making Otacon's dick twitch and freeze in all the right places. Hitting all the sweet spots, but then pulling back with slower pumps ever-so-slightly. It's during those moments that Liquid will grind hard onto him, pulling him so close that the friction itself might be the death of him.</p>
<p>But Liquid makes him hold out for far too long.</p>
<p>He feels like he could've came twice by now, at least.</p>
<p>Liquid seems to like drawing things out, from the foreplay to the intricate motions—like he’s wasting as much time as possible. This is all just a distraction.</p>
<p>But damn, if it isn't an effective one.</p>
<p>Otacon whines, "I'm— I-I can't—" </p>
<p>Liquid gives one last aggressive pump, slow at first and then with a few more fast rubs at the end. His face is half-buried into Otacon's soft, gray curls when the latter's cock twitches, releasing in a burst while it's still resting in Liquid's palm.</p>
<p>And he cums...straight onto the corner underneath the desk where the drab wall meets the tiled floor. <i>Gross.</i> Otacon's sure he'll have to be the one to clean it up later on.</p>
<p>As soon as this happens, Liquid slowly moves off of him, with Otacon shuddering to a relaxed posture as his dick falls limply. Even his breaths are still a little shaky.</p>
<p>It takes a moment for Otacon to compose himself, straightening his back that'd been huddled over that computer for so long.</p>
<p>Liquid clears his throat, and it makes Otacon jump as he looks back at him—he looks so unfazed. "...The logs, then, Doctor?"</p>
<p>"O-Oh!" He's a bit embarrassed for forgetting about that—the screen's been staring at him in the face this whole time. Otacon pulls his underwear and pants up to at least cover his dick, and reaches for the mouse. "Right away, Boss…"</p>
<p>Liquid's already waiting at the printer, shrugging on his trenchcoat one arm at a time. Already waiting, probably eager to leave—</p>
<p>Otacon shoves the thoughts aside and pretends not to notice. He clicks around, mind finally cleared from the fog and bringing down the high. </p>
<p>The papers fly hot off the press; Liquid staples them together with ease as Otacon turns the other direction, messing with his belt buckle. </p>
<p>“—I’ll be seeing you.” He hadn’t noticed, but the Boss is at the door already. </p>
<p>It’s like everything is normal again. Already. <s>But of course it is</s>. </p>
<p>Otacon wants to believe that he'll see Liquid again, but <i>Dr. Emmerich</i> knows this is just a quick favor and his use is limited after REX’s completion, and <i>Hal</i> knows he'll be thrown to the wayside soon (again).</p>
<hr/>
<p>He hasn’t seen Liquid in a while. Sniper Wolf, either. The guards seem more tense than ever, patrolling the hallways but content to simply keep his lab's door under locks and the electric floors whirring. </p>
<p>Something is stirring in Shadow Moses, but he's lost count of the days.</p>
<p>The nuclear warhead storage facility’s second floor basement is more ominous than ever before.</p>
<hr/>
<p>REX is finally complete. Otacon’s still been messing with the programming, anyway, going through last-minute changes and updates. </p>
<p>Anything to pass the time.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Nobody’s contacted him for hours. The soldiers have stopped dropping into his lab completely.</p>
<p>No word from Liquid, not even orders relayed by someone else. </p>
<p>This must be the part where he has no use for FOXHOUND anymore.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Otacon is alone, again, and the sounds of gunfire and the clanging of a sword down the hallway are anything but cheery consolation.</p>
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